Sunday, November 10, 2013

haven't written anything in almost a week ive fallen way behind. i feel like I could possibly still catch up i have some time i just don't have the sanity to do so. i haven't able to relax my mind is too jumbled. i really wonder if there's something wrong with my head. ive always thought faster than i could speak or write which is why i have such attrotious handwriting and why nothing ever comes out of my mouth right but lately i feel like it's gotten worse. even the simplest things to answer leave me stumbling in indecision and confusion.

i can feel the growing frustration of those around me and that which i hold with myself. it's expanding and boxing me into a corner that im not all that sure I can fight or write my way out of what's even more frustrating is the complacency that's starting to settle in and cloud my fragile resolve...maybe it's lack of sleep or the cold im pretending not to have or life's little distractions catching up and swallowing my brain bit by bit or perhaps it's just part of getting older. any way it can stop all that junk. ain't nobody got time for that gotta get back on target if i can still find it...

Friday, August 30, 2013

im starting to think i should've named the blog nostalgia instead of catharsis or maybe tangent
since i always seem to be off on one...

familiar sights

when i was in high school i took a few photography classes, i loved them.
i loved the weight of the camera in my hands,
the sense of control i felt as i turned the lens to bring the world into focus.
don't get me wrong, i was never great at it, i was average at best, but i loved it.

i loved the teacher, she was like the caring and free spirited aunt i never had.

she gave me a glimpse of what other adults could be like
you didn't have to be stuffy and serious when you got older.
she was in her fifties, at least, and she had a youthful spirit for the adventure of life.

he totally ripped our idea and modernized it lol

looking back i think maybe, she was really the awkward crazy lady people made fun of.
with her quirky outfits, off the wall antics and lesson plans
(i.e. dressing up as alex trebeck or her cowgirl cap)
but she didn't care. she was herself and she was wonderful!
she concocted this crazy camera costume idea for the homecoming parade
and talked me into wearing it. it was pretty awesome, wish i had pictures of it.
i danced at the parade and then the game and everything,
which was so completely out of character for me. no, i don't think you realize how true that statement is. im the kid who couldn't answer a question
in class with out falling to pieces. but i did it
and you know what? it was fun. i was stepping outside of my comfort zone and marching
to the beat of my own drum, just like my wonderful teacher..

but the part i think i loved the best was the dark room.
i loved the revolving door to the dark room, it screamed secret spy room to me!
it was great. it was my bat cave, dim, cool, and blissfully quiet.
the sound of the water running for the stop bath and rinses,
the hum of the enlarger, the way the air felt both cool and refreshing
as well as warm and inviting and of course the glow of the red light.
red in there wasnt anger, wasnt fear, it wasn't even the red of passion
it was a completely different shade of red.
red was peace, is that possible?
﻿﻿﻿

kinda like this, maybe?

there was hint of magic about the place, watching your photos appear on paper?
yeah that was definitely magic!
but there was something about the place that felt safe, like nothing bad could happen there.
i don't think i have a single memory of the place that wasn't good.
even the pungent smell of the chemicals were comforting.
it was sanctuary.

i remember my mom asking me, when i was sophmore,
if i knew what i wanted to be when i grew up.
i told her with great conviction that i wanted to be a photographer.
she told me that's a hobby not a career. i was crushed. i didn't speak to her for a week.
she bought me a photography for dummies book as an "apology"
my mother is a bit facetious.

i hate to admit it but she was right of course, i am not a photographer.
i hung that hat up and pushed it to the back of the closet long ago.

nicer version of my camera

recently, i went thrift shopping with a friend
i wasn't looking for anything,
just window shopping really
and i found a steal a Minolta x300 for $4.99
perhaps I shouldn't have but,
i bought it on a whim, in rush of nostalgia
it's not exactly what we used in school, but it's very similar
(i think we used a Pentax k1000)
it came with a flash and mount and bag AND it works
or the camera does anyway, i think the flash has bit the dust.
the camera is less than perfect, its a bit dirty, and the zoom lens is dented
it's missing the lens cap, but the battery works, so does the light meter, and the zoom,
it had film in it so i know the rewinder works, and i can get it to advance and shoot.
gonna take it to the camera store this weekend and get it checked out
my heads already plotting plans to revive my dark room days...
theres an old dark room in the basement at work its got an enlarger,
or course id have to buy chemicals an such...wonder if i could use it...or have it?... i digress

i happened to have the camera with me when i went by my mom's to drop off a pan i'd borrowed

so i showed it to her.
she thought it was great she sat there and played with it for an hour
and she told me a memory of my grandma that i'd never heard before.

i don't know if i've mentioned this before but my grandma was
one the most beautiful people the world has ever had the privilege to know.
im sure that's how most people feel about their grandmothers, of course...
appearance wise she was a beautiful lady but i don't mean that.
i mean the real, deep down truly amazing sense of the word beautiful.
i don't think there was anything that this woman could not do.
she could make the most wonderful somethings out of absolutely nothing.
i could go on and on about this woman, i wish i'd known her longer,
(she died the same year i told my mom i wash going to be a photographer)
been old enough to truly appreciate and know who she was,
but then again being an adult has a way of removing the soft warm tint
of all those rose colored childhood memories...
grandma's happen to be of the yellow rose variety
partially because they were her favorite but mostly because she was always
the warm afternoon sunshine on your shoulder..

the memory my mom shared, was of my grandma finding an old Brownie camera

similar to what grandma had

that someone had thrown in the dump.
with ten kids they were never rich, very far from it. this old beat up and broken camera, was quite the luxury item.
it was garbage someone tossed aside
without a second thought,.
the woman didn't know a thing about photography, she just saw something broken and thought, "hey, i could make something of this." and she did.
mom says they've still got some of the pictures she took on it. i'd love to see them

where was this memory when i wanted to be a photographer?

missing in action i suppose.

its not as though i was ever going become
a photographer, and its not something im particularly bitter about.
i dont mean to sound that way, though i suspect i sound much more like a petulant child in my posts than i'd like to admit....

i just regret giving up something i loved
because of something someone told me.

don't do that shit kids.

if you love something. keep at it.
doesnt matter if you're good or not.
life's meant to be enjoyed.
enjoy it and all its colors.
for real.
do it.
now.

Thursday, July 18, 2013

the rolling stone has been in the business of controversy since its inception in november of 1967.
with writers like hunter s. thompson and caroline kennedy its musical roots have definitely transformed into a political soapbox, its been used as a platform to discuss controversial topics like sex drugs and rock and roll. the covers have pictured images of rock stars, politicians, presidents and even criminals.

john lenon and yoko ono made waves with their iconic cover in 1980.taken by annie leibovitz this photo was taken the same night john lenon died.

in 1970, just three years into the magazines run, they gained national
attention for their cover interview with none other than charles manson. their prison interview with manson won them an national magazine award.their latest edition is not immune to controversy.
the august 1st edition of the rolling stone's cover has been plastered
all over the news and internet, you'd just about have to live under a rock at the bottom
of the mariana trench to have missed it. and it hasnt even been released yet.
the august edition features the picture of dzhokhar tsarnaev (probably didnt spell that correctly),
who is the man being held responsible for the boston marathon bombing.

the controversy is not necessarily that he is on the cover.
its the way he is being portrayed on the cover.
some critics have described his photo as a glamor shot.
this depiction of him is unsettling to the general public.
this man in the eyes of many is a monster.
and here he looks human, attractive even.
surely this is not the face of someone capable of that.
some one capable of that, they're dirty and hideous
and have sharp teeth and crazy eyes.
someone who would do that surely is long lost from humanity.
we want our monsters to look monstrous.
and he doesnt. he looks like any other young kid his age.
scruffy face, unruly hair, but clean and well taken care of.
he could be anyone's brooding college age son, brother, nephew, or grandson.
its easy to forget that he is.
its easy to forget the evil humans are capable of.we are more frightening than the darkest nightmare king or lovecraft could conjure.

the magazine has already received a lion's share of backlash from the critics and families of the victims. and they have every right to their own opinions but the rolling stone isnt doing anything different. anything unpatriotic or cruel. their intention was to strike a cord with their audience and in that they have certainly succeeded.. they are using controversy as it is intended to be used.
to start a conversation. the subject of the bombing is one that hits home for many.
but if we were an honest nation we would admit, many but not all.
it takes the giant hands of controversy to reach down and shake us into reality.
in the world that we live in, we are numb.
tragedies happen so frequently we scarcely take the time to process them.
less and less the question is asked "what will i tell my children?"
we dont need to tell our children what has happend.
they already know. or they think they do.
they think its just another reality show
a real life csi crime adventure.
this is the generation raised in the nursery of the veldt .
this is why we need controversy.
this is why we need the rolling stone.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

round peg square hole
what am i doing here?
this isnt my world
these arent my people
do i have people?
the cameras flash
feet stomp
and the band plays on
drinks are poured
and the people dance
some one yells some unintelligible
the night that wouldnt endthinking somebody just shoot me
lone ranger lays his gun down on the table
and goes dancing with his squaw
the cameras flash
laughter
feet stomp
and the band plays on
drinks are poured
and the people dance
i glance at the handle of the pistol
it would be too easy to pick it up
the overwhelming urge to point it at my head and shoot
frightens me...
it would be too easy.
something dangerous about simplicity.
the cameras flash
laughter
feet stomp
and the band plays on
drinks are poured
and the people dance
dancing in circles around the tiny dance floor
dancing circles around me
dancing in circles in my head
do you ever get dizzy?
the cameras flash
laughter
feet stomp
and the band plays on
drinks are poured
and the people dance
what am i doing here?
is that candlebox?

Thursday, June 27, 2013

what a joyous occasion!
such a joy to witness a rare moment of time
history is actually moving in the right direction!

slow progress is STILL progress.
tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow
creeps in....
so much more work to be done
so much more progress to be made
but TODAY

Today we rejoice!

so 61 words in a minute thats 1.1 words per second
the human brain moves so fast or perhaps i just happened to have
a joyous subject on my heart and mind
so the words flowed quickly
either way i think i've accompished two things today

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

stumbled across a website that generates one wordoneword.com
and tells you not to think just to write
i took it a step further and game myself one minute to write
no thinking just writing.
i figured one minute was a good time frame to start with
dont know if i could stop thinking for longer than that
maybe i could i might make this a daily exercise just to retrain my brain
and increase the time every couple of days maybe build myself up to an hour?
its a thought....

my word was

"blamed"

why should i be blamed?who's to blame?

what wrongs have been done that can not be righted again?

why is there so much wrong?

cant we just do something right?

just one something?

we're all to blame.its our shame to carry.

just for a while why dont we lay our burden down

better yet lets gather together

throw all the blame into a giant flame and let it burnburn until theres nothing left

maybe we can start againand maybe this time we wont have to play the same game

Thursday, June 20, 2013

i really do need to get back into the habit of blogging
if for no other reason that clearing out the contents of my brain
the theater of the morning is getting quite packed
but you cant hear the play for the noise of the growing crowds

i've had a lot of projects for work that are pulling on the creative side of my brain
no complaints it makes the work day move a little faster but at the end of the day
i cant organize full sentences to write anything
well thats not entirely true.
i recently started a side project as a form of entertainment and
it has sucked me in and played its roll expertly as a distraction
after all it does star two of my favorite subjects
(http://cutefluffythings.blogspot.com/)

i've enjoyed my distraction.
afterall distractions are meant to me enjoyed
and i intend to keep enjoying it
but i do want to work on other things
whatever those might be...

recently finished reading stephen kings book

on writing

i've never been a big king reader, but he's one of those writers thats
so massively larger than life that they must be worthwhile
so i gave him a shot and have been on a king reading binge
i definitely recommend it if you've never read anything by him

in this book, he's supposed to be writing about writing, and he does.
but he also writes largely about life in general
i imagine this book was a cathartic experience for him to write
as it is to read

the thing he wrote that hit my nail squarely on the head
was the attitude someone should have towards writing
he said:
"...you must not come lightly to the blank page. im not asking you to come reverently or unquestioningly; im not asking you to be politically correct or cast aside your sense of humor
(please God you have one). this isnt a popularity contest, its not the moral olympics , and its not church. but it's writing, damn it, not washing the car or putting on eyeliner. if you can take it seriously
we can do business. if you cant or wont, its time for you to close the book and do something else.
wash the car, maybe."

as i neither wear eyeliner nor typically wash my car
i'd say its a safe bet that i need to get serious about writing if im gonna write.
all us creative types need to be bossed around from time to time
or else we'd never get anything done.

i had alot of note scraps on this phobia yesterday but i didnt get around to actually writing anything
my assumptions on those suffering from this phobia were that they were generally
people whom felt inferior or unworthy of beauty
the whole wanting what you cant have
realizing you cant have it and denouncing it thing that people do
or those who were insecure about themselves
and therefore feel benevolence towards people they perceive to be superior to them
doing a little research i found that to be fairly accurate
theres apparently a trend in youtube videos right now
where people talk about their fears and mental disorders
i kind of got zapped into it and watched several different ones
and even found one on venustraphobia
its kind of interesting to hear about the phobia from a person who experiences it
some of the videos are very personal and candid
i would consider myself to be a fairly private person
so its mind blowing to me just how much personal information people put out there
i think some people use the platform as a way of getting things off their chests
theres more than a couple of mixed up kids reaching out for attention
and then theres a few people who are farther along their journey through their fears
and are speaking about their experiences and what they've learned
to tell others that even though the road is hard it is not hopeless
who knows what those heartfelt words can mean to someone
i hope they hit their mark.

Monday, April 22, 2013

ever find yourself in trouble with you're significant other
for something you didnt do?
apparently you committed an unforgivable
transgression in their dream
that you are completely unaware of
but must now suffer the consequences.

you find yourself in a hopeless situation
unable to redeem yourself in any way shape or form.

and the most agonizing part of the whole fiasco?

you will never ever know what you supposedly did or didnt do in their dream
because they're either too pissed or put off about it to even talk.
go ahead and pile on the silent treatment.
the perfect icing on the cake.

Friday, April 19, 2013

oh what a queer dream!!
i was being drawn and quartered by a quartet
for failing to stop and listen as they played, so it would seem.
they took themselves quite seriously, but none so much as the fellow with the cornet!

Thursday, April 18, 2013

and father time said unto the quivering boy: "what are you afraid of child?"

replies the child:"my father i fear all manners of evil, the multitudes of monsters, the corruptness of man, i fear those who have been long gone yet still linger,the furry spiders with their sharp bite,the hissing serpent at your feet,the towering heights of the heavens,the endless depths of the darknessthat engulf me as night falls,and all that i can not see or know."

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

throughout theology and mythology
heaven is usually defined as a sacred place or state of being,
often the dwelling of the god or gods,
a reward for people who lived their lives virtuously
its usually depicted as a paradise of sorts
located above or beyond the limits of the ordinary world
ruled over by a deity floating on clouds

in dantes divine comedy he journeys through the 9 rings of hell,
purgatory, and heaven ending up in a garden of eden like place

in modern christianity heaven is where upon their
deaths dutiful and pious christians
spend their afterlifes in bliss awaiting the rapture
the final resurrection of christ
and the end of this world

in norse mythology heaven is called vahalla or hall of the dead
here those who have fallen valiantly in combat are rewarded
as they await ragnarok
a time when they will rise up and join forces with the gods to defeat all evil

in hinduism and buddhism the equivalent of heaven is nirvana
a state of profound peace of mind free from suffering
in hindu philosophy nirvana is a union with the brahman
for buddists the word nirvana is literally translated as "blown-out"
when a person reaches nirvana they have reached
absolute enlightenment and no longer need to exist

in most cases heaven appears to be a very blissful place
but i suppose its also an end and perhaps thats what people find fearful

of course fear of the heavens could refer to fear those who rule the heavens
zeus with his lightning bolt sitting smug high on mt olympus
and then of course theres the army of archangels to carry out gods wrath
armed with spears and flaming swords
sure to strike fear in the hearts of all who behold them

when children are misbehaving people often say
"someone needs to put the fear of god in them"
fear of the heavens could very well be the fear of god

and it's been said that religion was designed
as a way of controlling the masses
so fear of the heavens could also refer to the fear of religion
or more accurately the fear of being controlled
the power of fear in our lives is quite amazing.

"love is what we were born with. fear is what we learned here."
-marianne williamson

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

im not really big on holding grudges,
im actually quite terrible at it.
i tend to forget all about being mad at someone
and most of the time they've got no idea i was ever cross with them.
i should mention im probably not the best at communication either...

or as a very good friend of mine once said
" you dont tell people what you really think
until its too late or you are already too pissed
to talk about it. you're too complacent with
things that are important."

probably the truest statements anyone has ever made about me
and this friend of mine made those when we were only 17
several years later they still ring true.

part of its my very libra tendencies to avoid
confrontation and maintain the status quo
part of its the way i grew up,
the school of "sit down you're rocking the boat"

and part of its just my ADD

i can go to bed angry, then wake up and think
"i was angry about something but i dont know what,
guess it wasnt that important"

its hardly ever that important
and everyone gets so worked up about it.
i've never really got it.

when it is actually really important people tend to
tip toe around things or avoid them all together.

rather counterproductive dont ya think?

luckily though, there exists a few magical moments where humanity
decides to speak its mind and the whole world listens.

Monday, April 15, 2013

this is one disappointment
that i personally have still
not gotten over. (see about me)
im not sure if i ever will.
im certain that i was meant to fly.
but all the faith hope and pixie dust
has yet to work.
so i keep dreaming.
after all whats so bad about that?

Friday, April 12, 2013

it's there in the emptiness of a theater
long before the audience arrives
there is an energy pulsing through the emptiness
an energy that lingers long after it's gone
and waits to be reawakened
the performers just beginning to gather
their voices as they enter quickly falling
in reverence of the silence.
it doesnt last, it never does.

ever miss the bus home while you were in school?
did you walk back in to try to phone your parents and suddenly became aware of the silence?
no slamming of lockers, shouts, or trills of laughter,
gone too, is the constant hum of chatter and shuffling footsteps.
just the quiet.
did you feel uneasy?
get a since of foreboding as though you shouldnt be there?

ever driven past your morning commute late late at night
and been amazed at how quickly you drove through?
not another soul on the road, no honking,
or radios blaring except perhaps your own.
would you reach over and turn it off just to listen?
or would the sound of your tires on the pavement make you too anxious?

ever go for a run through the neighborhood before the stars made it to bed?
did the echo of your footsteps sound like loud claps of thunder?
the sound of your heartbeat like distant drums
the awareness of their sound somehow makes you fearful.
of what?

we're taught to fear the silence.
it is in all the scenes in movies and books where the young girl goes down dark alleyways
or walks into a seemingly abandoned building, calling out into the silence
"hello? is there anybody there? hello?"
only to be answered with her untimely death by the hands of whatever man or beast awaits her.

chances are that when you're alone you've got
some sort of sound playing in the background
find yourself calling people for no reason,
the radio or tv that you're not really watching
just comforted by the company of sound.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

homophobia
xenophobia
these are not fears.
they are prejudices.
lets get that straight from the start.
the use of the word fear as a crutch to hide your hate
is beyond sickening.
i refuse to believe that a real fear exists in any
individual that claims these "phobias"
disgraceful.
perhaps there's a general feeling of discomfort
around these individuals because of the guilt
we feel as a human race for treating people
in such a horrific manner.
good.
it's not supposed to be comfortable.
if it is then we might need to redefine
what qualifies as humanity, starting with your exclusion.
the guilt isnt mean to weigh you down to your darkest depths.
it's there to be a nagging splinter in your hand, so that you cant forget.
you must always remember.
the past can not be changed.
what has happened, has happened.
now we as a human race must live with ourselves.
and remember our mistakes, so that they will not be repeated.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

its a thought, a concept, or mental impression,
a suggestion to a possible course of action.

it is not corporeal or materialits not really anything
just a thought.

so why the fear?
perhaps it is merely fear of the unknown?

the power of an idea is infinite.

imagination is probably the singular mostimportant thing that we as humans possess

it allows us to see and
explore the universe.
to create and buildinvent and innovate
to entertain and explain
to grow and to thrive.

without it where would we be?

letting blood for the common cold?writing with ink and feather quills,
still pushing carts with horses,
cavemen in the dark
or dust??????

this fear is what prevents society from being all that we can.

fear of anything that is not like us,
different oppinons, thoughts or feelings than our own.
subliminal messaging teaching our youth that different is wrong.
conform or be outcast.

why?

"i wish that we could open our eyes to see in all directions at the same time"
-dcfc, marching bands of manhattan

maybe if we could all see everything all at once,
see the other side of the stories,
where people come from,
what they want in life,if we could feel how they feelif they could see what we see,
feel what we feel
then maybe we would finally understand
then maybe the human race stands a chance at not destroying one another.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

everyone has that someone,
that you just cant seem to forget.
no matter the distance you try to put between yourselves.
all the miles and miles you run.
all the time in the world doesnt seem to help.
even if you havent seen them in years and years.
even if you know too much has happened.
that you cant go back to where you were.
even though you know in the pit of your stomach
that you arent right for each other.
that moving forward is in your best interest.
you get up every single day and tell yourself
that today you wont think of them.
their name wont cross your mind,
you will not miss them.
all the lies we tell ourselves.
distractions are futile.
you've tried to move on before
but you're heart wasnt in it
and you've left heartache in your wake.
now you're afraid to try.

so you carry with you always
the heaviness in your chest.

loves thorns.
it won't be the last.
though you will never forget
this too shall pass.

i'd like to think that i know most of the people in my life fairly well.
i know what they like,
what they dont,
what buttons to push
how far i can push them,
how far they'll push back.
i know how they behave in relationships,
when they tell me about a new affection
i can tell whether or not they're serious.
i know their types
i've seen them head over hills
and i've seen them hurt.
i can almost always tell
when somethings bothering them.
over the years ive built up
an arsenal of jokes sure to
cue their laughter.
i know all their stories,
their dreams
hopes
and ambitions.
i've seen what they're capable of.
and let me tell you i've been extremely fortunate
to have some of the most amazing people
swim through my life.
they comfort me,
make me laugh,
encourage me
and boss me around when i need it.
i know these people as well as anyone can
and they know me.
and they arelove.

Friday, April 5, 2013

there are millions of childhood fears people eventually grow out of
fear of the dark, monsters hiding under your bed, getting into trouble...
then there are those fears that find deep roots in our childhoods and grow strong.

that is the case with this fear.
its one that im seldom likely to admit
because when i say it aloud it seems
well, childish.

for me this all goes back to the bloody mary game.
im sure everyone's played the game at some point in their lives
or at least is familiar with some version of it.

some versions say her origins came in 1892
about 4 years after the jack the ripper killing spree ended
mary conolly a well known alcoholic and prostitute
was brutally murdered by one of her clients
her throat was slit ear to ear and she was left to bleed to death
her murder confessed and was justly hanged
but according to legend she was troubled in death just as she was in life
and still seeks vengeance for her troubles
those who call her spirit are doomed to meet the same fate by her hands

but legends of "bloody mary" existed at least 3 centuries before

queen mary I "bloody mary" upon her ascension to the throne
made it her life's goal to return the church of england to roman cathloicism
she carried this out through lethal force.
she had over 280 religious dissenters burned at the stake
at least 100 of which were protestant leaders.
it's said that the rage she unleashed on them
is rooted from her anguish of being unable to bare a child.
she suffered several miscarriages
and ultimately died from ovarian cancer at the age of 42.

queen mary I is also believed to be the origins for the
nursery rhyme mary mary quite contrary
with the line "how does your garden grow?"
referring to her lack of heirs.

the game calls her spirit by her name three times
taunting it with things like "i've got your baby"
she is said to appear in the mirror in a distorted form
full of rage and the ability to continue her bloody reign
starting with your death.

i was probably around the 7 years old, i couldnt have been older than 8
when a group of kids at my daycare convinced me to play the game with them
i had goosebumps before we even started
all of us piled into that tiny bathroom
my heart raced as they called her name
it was pitch black in there you could scarcely see your hand in front of your face
they ran screaming and laughing from the bathroom upon the 3rd time
promptly locking and barricading me in there alone.
the power of imagination is quite strong, i dont believe i actually saw anything.
the story alone was beyond frightening
i truly believed that mary was coming to get me.
i screamed and pounded on the door for an unknowable stretch of time
before one of the workers finally came along and let me out
never mind the group of kids who locked and barricaded me in there
i was harshly scolded and punished
for yelling and not using my inside voice.
i didnt tell my mother for fear i'd be in trouble for getting in trouble.

till this day the fear of mary prevents me from
walking into rooms with mirrors while the lights are off.

and as such i dont spend much time looking in a mirror
just a quick glance to make sure my hairs laying flat enough
or to see if i have any food stuck in my teeth.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

just imagine.
h.g. wells would be proud.
modern science has invented the technology
to allow you to revisit any point in your life.
provided there's a picture of it, that is.
for a nice lofty sum, you can gain access to one of the new scanners.
simply scan your photo, and it produces a digital copy.
then you plug the digital copy into your computer
and now you have to ability to talk to yourself as you once were.

not exactly what you were expecting?
well progress doesn't always come in leaps and bounds
sometimes baby steps are better for the whole of mankind
i mean imagine an actual time machine hitting the commercial market
it would be absolute bedlam!
megalomania would run rampant through the masses.
forget about the butterfly effect.
we'd wipe out all of existence in the short span of a week.
and that's being optimistic.

this modest technology only expands a bit on the moments already suspended in time.
it doesn't allow you to alter the course of history.
or see things that you havent seen.
it's not about the next bold adventure.
it's just a new way to relive old memories.
if there's anything more marketable that money, sex, and power.
it would be nostalgia.
especially in a society where the people are living longer and longer.
the majority of people over the age of 60 tend to be a bit dissatisfied with their quality of life.
unable to do the things that they once could and find themselves longing for their misspent youths.
is there anything they would've changed?
maybe so or maybe not.
ultimately they tend to look at those long gone days through rose colored glasses.
seeing things more how they would've liked them to be and less as they were.

given the opportunity to relive those days they'd happily empty their pockets.
but would they be satisfied customers?
would the conversations they'd be able to have with themselves make them happy?
or would the realization of reality be too much?

the old man who tells his great-grandchildren the story of his football championship glory
whose handsome youth sheepishly admits he sat on the bench his whole career.

the vain woman who swears upon a stack of bibles
that her beauty is all natu-ral
her photograph ticks of a list of cosmetic surgeries
she's had thus far in life.

the lonely widower looking forward to hearing
his wives voice once more
only to hear that she'd been sleeping with another man since their wedding night.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

"It's the sense of touch.
In any real city you walk, you know?
You brush past people, people bump into you.
In LA nobody touches you.
We're always behind this metal and glass.
I think we crash into each other just so we can feel something."
-CRASH, 2004

think of the reassuring nurse who pats you on the arm
and tells you not to worry that the shot will be over before you know it.
in that same instance they swiftly poke you with the needle.
you hardly felt it wincing only for a fraction of a second and its gone.
now remove that tiny little arm pat
and delete those simple words of kindness.
what you've got left is a silent person in a white coat
waiting to poke you with a needle.
--because that's not creepy at all.

i think the words mean just as much if not more than the touch.
take away the touch and leave the words in the above scenario
and the creepy factor isn't present, take away the words
and leave the touch and it's could be taken different ways.

the desire present in us is not necessarily a physical one, it's emotional.
what we crave is a connection.
an echo of what we put out into the universe.
something that reassures or encourages us.

words hold infinite power.
they can build you up and break you down all within
the whispers of the most insignificant syllables.

the simplest "hello" or "thank you"

the smallest silence.

all are potential life changing moments in someones timeline.

the only problem is that
everyone has their own interpretation of signals
and a lot gets lost in translation.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

our family still participates in the antiquated tradition of decorating graves.
i say antiquated because every time i've mentioned it to someone
i receive a bewildered slightly creeped out look
none of them seem to know what im talking about.
we're a little old fashioned i suppose.
but for me its always been the norm.
some of my earliest memories are of us walking through the graveyards
my parents reading out the names on the stones and saying this is your
grandfather and grandmother, that is your great-great grandparents,
your cousin, your uncle, your baby aunt...
its an annual thing. typically falling around the time of memorial day.
the graveyards in which our loved ones are buried in have what they call decoration.
im told its short for decoration day, which is the former name for memorial day.
traditionally the day was meant as a time to honor fallen soldiers
by decorating their graves with flowers, flags and such.
but decoration honors all who have gone before us.
there are two primary graveyards that we visit.
one for my fathers side of the family and one for my mothers.
not all of our family members are buried in theses places but most of them are.
about a month before the day we start collecting artificial flowers
alot of thought and time is spent building our collection
make sure we have enough boy flowers
lets get something fun like a pinwheel for the kids
and dont forget the yellow ones! grandma sure did love her yellow roses."

the event is usually followed by a BIG family barbeque
at my aunt and uncles house in the country.
so many relatives! so many hellos and hugs and a great sea of folding chairs
"do i really know all of these people?"
their "summer house" is located about half-way between the two cemeteries
and within walking distance of the creek where i learned to swim.
where my brother and i spent our summer hours chasing crawdads
and building moats around my aunts feet.
at night the grown-ups would sit in the soft glow of the porch light
talking, drinking coffee eating my aunts sugar-cinnamon pound cake.
i can still hear their sounds,
the symphony of crickets and frogs
the cidicas (katie-dids as they called them)
the distant train whistling in the wind
if my uncle's brother came over there was sure to be music
the soft melodic rumble of my uncles' voices
guitars and mandolins picked
cousin eddie would play the saxophone if you asked him just right.
sometimes there were tears but mostly there was laughter.
and my aunts trademark laughter once it started it took forever to wind down!
they'd tell the same stories over and over
every once and a great while they'd recall another one to add to the playlist
always about their youth and our deceased relatives
remembering the good ole' days.
the whole atmosphere just made you feel so connected almost as though
everyone you were related to was there with you that you were all one.
i slept well on those nights.
in recent years work and other obligations have kept me from attending decoration.
the last year i went was shortly after my aunt died.
the family was still there.
we still walked the rows of graves.
when we reached hers, my father cried.
an event that i can count the number of times
i've witnessed in my life on one hand.
he said something that struck me as odd at the time
but is much more crystal now.
he said

"i wish i hadnt seen her at the funeral, she didnt look like that"

to him she never looked a day older that 17
even though she was well into her 70s when she passed.
to my father she had been and will always be
his ever doting, beautiful, zealous, big sister full of life and love.

Monday, April 1, 2013

growing up when someone said something about the future
my mind always wandered to the world of hanna-barbara's jetsons

flying cars, robot butlers, lunar vacations, living in outer space
i suppose now part of the child in me still wants to believe in that world
full of fascinating gadgets and unending possibilities new frontiers to explore
but now when i think of the future bradbury's short story
"there will come soft rains" crosses my mind.
a frightening caricature of the jetsons.
bradbury has brought to life sara teasdale's poem in the wake of nuclear war human life has ceased
yet the computer controlled home marches on carrying out its pre-programmed duties indefinitely.
its a sobering thought and speaks volumes
on the inevitable self-ruin of man.
the jetsons takes place in the year 2062 and bradburys quiet nightmare takes place in 2026.
49 and 13 years from now and little of
hanna-barbra or bradbury's visions ring true.
sure there are a multitude of space-age gadgets
all manners of touch-screen technology and self-parking cars.
no robotic butlers like rosie but a variety of robotic vacuum cleaners
did hit the market a few years back. they were more or less a passing fad.
while there are no lunar vacations, space tourism in a now a reality
for the hefty price of $20-$30 MILLION!
we are living on the edge of the future and its exciting!
but its also scary as hell!

i've always felt i was a bit behind the curb.
as though my peers were miles ahead of me
that there was no way i could ever catch up
so why bother running the race at all?
intellectually i think i've actually always been slightly ahead
i was quick to learn and my head was always swiming
with
a million or so ideas from all the books i'd read
but socially i was one awkward turtle.
when i was younger i was very talkative
and thought i was the most important person in the world
my mother received several school phone calls
regarding my inability to shut up.
but as i got older the world around me seemed so much more vast
more so than i ever imagined
and suddenly i felt very small and unimportant.
i began comparing myself to everyone i met and i never felt like i measured up.
i didnt go on camp outs or sleep overs
didnt really participate in any extracuriculars
i read lived in books
didnt have many friends, didnt date much,
public speaking was an instrument of torture worthy of the Inquisition.
i never really knew what i wanted to be when i grew up
well admittedly i did have an inexplicable conviction when i was 5 to be a ballerina
i was very resolute in that decison--dont worry it only lasted about 3 weeks..
during the height of my most angst ridden years i was terribly cynical.
much more than i am now.
i had a haughty disdain for the majority of my graduating class.
the pep rallies at the high school i attended
for some asinine reason were compulsory.
they were held during school hours and all of the exits were well guarded.
so imprisoned in the bleachers while everyone cheered for our losing football team,
i would play a game in my head to pass the time.
i would look at whatever overly perky cheerleader, jock, club president etc.
that happened to be in the limelight at the moment
and i would imagine where they would be in ten years.
my condescending 17 year old self always jumped to
barefoot and pregnant, bald and unemployed,
living in parents basement still reliving high school glories.
i mean my gods! they made my life miserable!
i was getting out of this place and never going to see any of them again.
a blink or two of the eyes and all those people who i imagined
"made my life miserable"
for the most part have graduated college with viable degrees and careers
and happy marriages with 2+ kids
and are generally productive members of society mortgages and all.
i made a half-assed attempt at going to college and "finding myself"
it didnt take.
i've traveled a bit but i still live 20 miles from where i grew up
worked a few dead in jobs
dated all the wrong people
all of this i've been politely ignoring as i go about my day to day
waiting for my real life to begin...
when i turn five i can do_____
when i turn fifteen i'll _____
when i turn 25 im going to be_____

gabriel garcia marquez said "people spend a lifetime thinking about how they would really like to live"

i dont know what i thought it was going to be like
just that its not supposed to be like this.
i guess i always figured at some point i would know
where i was supposed to be
that everything would suddenly make sense
that i would "find my place in the world"

i've been idle too long.
the future is arriving too quickly
and the streaks of grey in my hair tell me
that i can not ignore it any longer.

alimento-mori- the insomnia borne jolt of awareness that you will die.

About Me

when i was a kid i used to dream of rocket ships and flying i dreamed about them so much i made myself believe that i could really fly so every day when i was sent outdoors to play i would run and jump and fall to the ground dust myself off and try again and again and again my knees stayed permanently scraped yet i never ceased to believe i lived in the wonderful plane of existence between dreams and reality quite a difficult balancing act as you can imagine...well here goes nothing!